Chapter 10
The school parking lot was almost empty by nine. I'd stayed late to file that form with the nurse, and he waited with me even though I told him not to. The amber lights over the lot buzzed and threw that same warm glow we'd had in the room that first night, soft and low and too yellow to be honest.
His shoes clicked beside mine on the asphalt. He carried my bag in one hand and kept his other hand loose at his side, close enough that I could reach it if I needed to. My wrist was bare. I'd stopped rewrapping it. The faint scar caught the light every time I moved.
We were three rows from my car when someone stepped out from between two pickups and stopped in our path.
It was Jenna. Junior, varsity, beta with a father on the pack council. She wore her letterman over her uniform vest, crest half-covered. She didn't look surprised to see us. She looked like she'd been waiting.
I stopped short. My breath caught and I felt it in my throat. He stopped half a step in front of me, not blocking me, just shifting his shoulder.
"Hey," Jenna said. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Heard you had an accident. You okay?"
That was scene one. Silence hung for a beat too long. A car door slammed way across the lot and someone laughed near the gym entrance, then disappeared inside.
"I'm fine," I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "It was just a fall."
She tilted her head. Her eyes dropped to my wrist. The scar was pale pink now, thin as a hair.
"Funny fall," she said. "Looks real clean for a fall. You sure you didn't get cut on something?"
I felt his hand brush mine. Not grabbing. Just there.
He spoke quietly. "She said it was a fall."
Jenna kept her smile. "I know what she said. I'm just asking. Because omegas without a wolf spirit, you know, they bruise easy. People worry. They start asking if someone should've been watching you closer."
The amber light hummed overhead. It made her letterman look more orange than red. It made his gold-rimmed glasses flash when he turned his head slightly toward me, then back to her.
"It wasn't a fall," he said. It was low, even. Not loud. "And you know it wasn't."
Jenna's smile tightened. She looked at him then, really looked. "You sure you want to get involved in this? You're the healer kid. You glow and fix things. That's sweet. But some things don't need fixing. Some things just need people to keep the right story straight."
I swallowed. My pulse was loud in my ears. I could feel the cool air on my scar.
"She already filed the report," he said. "It's under review."
"Oh, I heard," Jenna said. "Under review. That's careful language. That's smart." She took a step closer. I didn't move. He didn't move either, but his left wrist turned just enough that his watch caught the light — black dial, gold bezel. Nine fourteen. I noticed it without meaning to. "Listen, I like you both. I'm giving you advice. Keep the story simple. You fell. She patched you up. Nobody needs to know about blades or bathrooms or who was where. Omegas have a hard enough time as it is. Don't make it harder."
It wasn't a shout. It wasn't a threat with teeth. It was worse because it was calm, like she was doing us a favor. Like she was protecting the pack's order and we should thank her.
I found my voice. "Are you saying you did it?"
Jenna laughed, one short breath. "I'm saying be careful. Watch that wrist. Keep it covered next time. And tell your boyfriend to save his light for people who actually need it."
She said boyfriend like it was a joke. She said light like it was something foolish.
He didn't answer right away. The pause stretched. I could hear the lamp buzzing, the wind moving a plastic bag across the asphalt. His breathing stayed even. Mine didn't.
"She doesn't need to cover it," he said finally. His voice was quieter than before. "And she doesn't need your warning."
Jenna held his gaze for three seconds, then mine. She shrugged. "Okay. Your choice. But remember, parking lots are empty at night. No witnesses. Things happen and people remember whatever story makes sense first. Omega without a wolf, clumsy fall — that makes sense. That's easy for everyone."
She stepped around us, not too close, and kept walking toward the main lot exit. Her car beeped when she unlocked it two rows over. She didn't look back.
We stood there until her taillights turned onto the county road and disappeared. The lot felt colder after. The amber lights still glowed, warm and false.
He turned to me. "You okay?"
I nodded, but my hand was shaking. I tucked it against my vest, then forced myself to let it hang again, scar out. "She didn't deny it."
"No," he said. "She didn't."
He reached, hesitated, then lightly touched the edge of the scar with his fingertips. His skin was warm. No glow this time. Just touch.
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"Come on," he said. "I'll walk you to your car and follow you home."
We walked the last row together under that same amber light, and I didn't cover my wrist.
